


Witch-Hazel

by BlueBirdys, CosmicTanzanite



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Episode: s03e08 The Phantom and the Sorceress!, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Magica can Eat My Foot, Past Character Death, Resurrection, Takes place after that episode, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27587765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBirdys/pseuds/BlueBirdys, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicTanzanite/pseuds/CosmicTanzanite
Summary: Sometimes you have to resort to necessary evils when you're desperate.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Witch-Hazel

“Ooh! There I am, there I am!” The duckling could hardly contain her excitement. Snuggled up between Violet and Lena, Webby was watching in delight as she saw her memories projected in front of them like a movie, the camera being Lena’s magically glowing hands.

Right before them, a projection of a younger Webby adjusted the last few touches on her very first grappling hook. In delight, she fired it up into the ceiling, cheering as she launched herself upward. And then within three seconds, it had broken, sending the tiny duckling plummeting to the ground with a shriek. As soon as she hit, the memory poofed.

“And after that was my very first trip to the hospital!” Webby cheered proudly. “Lena, this new spell of yours is amazing!”

“I mean it’s not that great, but yeah, go on,” Lena snickered softly, quite pleased with herself and her growing abilities.

“Might I try?” Violet raised her hand as she scooted closer and allowed Lena to take her hand.   
  
Closing her eyes, Lena allowed a blue light to form around their hands and then let go, revealing a small glowing sphere in her hand. Float away, it burst into a projection of light and shape, forming a recreation of Violet sitting in between her fathers on the couch. Lena was sitting overhead and watching as her sister silently but happily flipped through a large fantasy book.

“Ah yes.” The hummingbird smiled. “Reading through the Chronicles of Cardina’s seventh and final volume as a family. I remember it like yesterday.”

“It was yesterday.”

“And it’s a memory I cherish very much.” Violet gave Lena’s hand another squeeze. “I must say, your powers are getting stronger than they were first starting out.”

“It does help not having a crazy witch lady breathing down my back and ankles 24/7. And y’know...having you guys.”

“Awww!” Webby grinned, squishing her cheeks in delight but then paused. “Have you had any problems with...you know...” Webby shifted her gaze around quickly, then whispered, “The Phantom Blot?”

“Oh, that weirdo?” Lena scoffed. “Nah. He’s got nothing I can’t handle. My magic took out his doomsday glove. It can take out anything he throws at me.”

“I’d stay cautious,” Violet spoke up. “You saw how tenacious he was about defeating Magica.”

“Well, I’m not Magica, and now that she has her powers back, that should give him enough of an incentive to leave me alone.”

“It’s not just Magica he’s after though, remember?” Webby then added. “He tried to destroy Castle McDuck, the portals my family went through-”

“A whole shelf of magician kits for children at the toy store,” Violet chimed in.

“Guys, relax,” Lena replied, silencing them. “It’s not like he’s actively looking for me. And he’s not gonna recognize me out in public with my new rags!” She showed off her handmade star patterned shirt and leggings. “Now, enough about him. I copied Launchpad’s credit card number! I’m feeling Chinese, how about you?”

After a delicious takeout meal on the dime of a pilot with an already abysmal credit score, the three girls spent the rest of the night doing their typical slumber party activities: riffing low budget horror movies, holding some unsuccessful seances, stargazing and shooting nerf darts off of the roof. And by the time fifty darts had been stuck to the houseboat in the pool, the three were quite worn out.

“Night guys,” Webby yawned. “First up in the morning gets dibs on waffles.”

“First up has to make waffles,” Violet pointed out before drifting off.

“Forget that.” Lena blinked heavily. “I’m gonna conjure up a breakfast burrito.”

Soon, all three girls were sound asleep, and while Webby and Violet were in deep slumber, Lena admittedly didn’t always sleep as heavily on a stomach full of takeout. She soon found herself wide awake again.

“Ahh, great,” she grumbled, rolling around in her sleeping back to huddle up. Just as she was about to drift off again, she heard what sounded like footsteps and sat up. “Webs? Vi?”

The other two snored in reply, and Lena watched them whilst still keeping her ears open for any noise to follow.

“...Hello?”   
  
No reply. Lena screwed up her face in confusion but chalked it down to too much sugar before bedtime, closing her eyes again and rolling back over. As soon as she did so, the noise returned. She continued to brush it off at first, but soon, it became harder to ignore, almost as if it was closer.    
  
And then, she felt a presence. It was as if something was towering over her, something tall and...glowing? She cracked open her eyes to see two bright green lights shining over her before everything went black almost instantly. 

* * *

Waking again, Lena initially thought nothing had happened, and that the previous instance had just been a dream. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Or at least she tried to. For some reason, she couldn’t quite move her arms or hands.

Looking down, her blood ran cold as she saw glowing chains wrapped around her body and almost immediately tried to use her magic to blast them off. But instead of a glowing blue halo of light, all that came from her hands was some sorry sparks and then nothing.

“What the-?” she hissed, then called out, “Webby? Violet?”

As she looked around for the two, she realized, with a bigger stab of fear to to the gut, that she wasn’t in the McDuck mansion anymore. It was hard to really see everything in the darkness, but all she could make out was what looked to be thorny brambles, torture devices and a horrifically bloody crucifix on the wall over her head.

“Viii, if this is a prank related to the movie we watched, this is...really a good prank,” she laughed nervously, noise dying in her throat quickly as the same green pair of lights suddenly emerged from the shadows, glaring.

“You,” Lena hissed.   
  
“Yes,” a voice sneered, as the glowy eyed figure towered over her. She could now tell that her worst suspicions had been correct: it was the Phantom Blot. “Me.”   
  
A panicked groan left Lena’s throat as she tried to free herself to no avail, attempting to channel in on her magic in order to break them. “You can’t keep me trapped here much longer! I’m gonna get out of these, and then my friends are gonna come over here, and you’ll be done for, Blotty!”   
  
Blot laughed at the girl’s attempts to break free of the restraints. “Best of luck. Those chains are magic-resistant, created by yours truly. And I doubt your little friends will find you all the way out here.”   
  
Cursing under her breath, Lena took another glance at her less-than-pleasant surroundings and frowned. “What kind of weirdo torture chamber did you even bring me to?”   
  
“This is my living room.”   
  
Lena blinked, confused for a moment but then nodded. “Makes sense.”

"Now listen well, wretched child.” The phantom stepped closer, his sneer almost visible under the hood. "If you would like to be spared within an inch of your life, you will do exactly as I say."

"I'd rather eat dirt," she scowled. "If this has anything to do with Magica, I'll say it again: I don't have anything to do with her. Between you and me, I ain't stopping you from blasting her to smithereens."

"This has nothing to do with that murderous witch," Blot snarled, stepping closer, and holding up a thick volume that was covered in burn marks and thorns, "and everything to do with this."

“What's that? Your diary?"

"No! It's a spell book!” Blot snarled. "And I'd be bleaching my hands for touching it if it hadn't contained what I need."

"Which is?"

There was a long, infuriating silence, and the Phantom Blot glared out the window where the sky was starless. "I require your use of resurrection magic."

"...My what now?"

"Resurrection magic! Only a witch can do such spells and you are unfortunately the only one I can go to.” He scowled at the ground, grumbling curses. "Black Arts Beagle, ultimate sham…"

Lena was about to ask whoever Blot would want to resurrect, assuming it was for an undead army, but remembering the origins of the Blot, she perked up. "You're trying to get your village back?"

"In a sense," he growled. "I have an entire book of incantations you can use, so do it and do it right."

"Well," Lena swung her feet to and fro, "I can't do anything with chains around me."

"And let you escape? What do you take me for, witch?"

"Calm down man, what do you think I'm gonna do? Burn down your house? I'm a teenager, chill."

After a long, hateful silence, Blot let a heated breath come out of his nose, and he reluctantly undid the chains. He kept a tight grip on Lena's arm as he shoved the book in her other arm. "Now, get to it."

"Relax," she scoffed, tugging herself over to a couch within eyesight, and got comfy. She cracked open the book, squinting at the words, then frowned. "Hey, would it kill to get some light in here?"

"I assumed witches could see in the dark."

"And you also probably assume I eat babies and bathe in pig blood too right? All three are wrong."

Hesitantly, Blot adjusted a few oil lamps, shedding light onto all his decor. 

"Hm. Really into the gothic Catholic vibe I see." Lena looked around at all the old furniture, art and bookshelves, as well as the amount of crucifixes on the wall, one out of every three being quite bloody. Not to mention quite a cute little pot of thorny roses in the corner.

Lena looked at one of the crucifixes and smirked. "What church you go to? Our Lady of Perpetual Torture?"

"Shut up and read."

"Got anything to drink?"

"QUIT STALLING."

"Okay, okay! Jesus freak," Lena muttered under her breath, leafing through pages. "There are like, fifty different spells for resurrection in here man, which one did you want?"

"You should know which one is the least evil."

"You think I actually study this thoroughly?"

Blot glared at her, yanking the book out of her hands and angrily flipping through the pages. "We start with this one," he bookmarked the page, then turned to another. "Then these."

Lena took the book back from him and looked at the three individual spells. They had the same required artifacts listed, but different chants, and different labels.

_ Resurrection of a sibling _

_ Resurrection of a spouse _

_ Resurrection of a child _

Lena looked up at Blot, as if to silently ask the question the spells prodded at, but there was no expression through the mask that gave her an answer. Instead, the magic thief was leering at her. “I’m waiting.”

Giving a sigh, the young sorceress frowned. “So we’re gonna need stuff for these. And I don’t mean from grocery stores.”   
  
“What do you mean then?”   
  
“I need something from them, like clothing or artifacts. Did you save anything of theirs?”    
  
Blot put a finger to where his chin should be under the cloak and tapped it there, thinking. “Most of their belongings were destroyed. Find another way.”   
  
“There isn’t another way,” Lena said with a frown.   
  
“Well, make one!”   
  
“That’s not how magic works, bud. I can’t just make things appear out of thin air.”   
  
He crossed his arms and huffed. “I thought making objects reappear and disappear was considered basic to you people.”   
  
“Kind of, but that’s more reserved for things like doves and fruit than the clothes of your dead relatives.” Realizing quickly that Blot saw no humor in her joke, Lena was quick to move on. “How long ago did this even happen?”   
  
Blot thought. “A few centuries ago.”   
  
Lena’s bill dropped open. “Centuries!? Wh- actually, that makes a lot of sense.”   
  
“I’ve been told.”   
  
She nodded. “Okay, so the possibility they could be left behind is way out of the question.”    


An irritable growl stirred in Blot’s chest, and he stared at the floor for several seconds before grumbling. “I may have a few things.”

Before Lena could ask anything, Blot reached into a drawer that had been locked and pulled out a faded and worn ragdoll. And then in the blink of an eye he had shimmied off one of his gloves, removing a sparkling silver ring from a pitch black paw.

“Were rings a big thing back in the day?” Lena raised an eyebrow.

“I made this,” Blot growled, then began glaring around the room, eyes scanning with focus to find one more item. They widened in excitement upon spotting the bookshelf, and suddenly. the magic thief was quickly rifling through the rows of books, muttering to himself and occasionally throwing a book over his shoulder.

Lena caught one, and snickered at the goopy cover of a werewolf wooing a Victorian woman titled _Wolves of_ _Forbidden Love_. “Big on the gothic romance novels I see.”

“Silence,” he snarled at her, finally eyeing what he was looking for, and took a small, locked journal off the shelf. He shoved it into Lena’s hands along with the ring and the doll.

“Now get to it.”

“Hold up, bookworm. We have to go somewhere with sacred ground. Like...I dunno? A church? A cemetery?”

Blot grunted, looking out the window. “There’s a cemetery not far from here.”

“Greaaaat,” Lena huffed. “Hopefully a 24-hour one? With witnesses so you don’t chop my body up and bury it?”

Blot chuckled darkly. “I’m not that stupid, witch. Now, stay still, and I’ll grab the chains again.”

“Oh c’mon, man! It’s not like I’m gonna run!”

“Not taking any chances,” Blot growled, dangling the glowing restraints in his large hand.   


* * *

“Y’know, of all the things you could have picked up after getting your village wrecked, you had to choose hunting magic,” Lena grumbled aloud as she stomped three feet ahead of Blot through the dark wilderness. “You could have picked hunting deer or fishing or making really small replicas of castles, and you went with this?”

“You know nothing of my life, devil child,” Blot retorted flatly, staring ahead as he kept the chain at close reach.

“I know that after like two or three centuries, I would have picked a different hobby,” she snarked back. “Like I know Magica is the worst, but the minute I got her out of my life I was grateful to-”

Lena’s rant was cut off by a forceful yank that sent her flying backward, and an elbow slamming her against a tree. Breath nearly escaping her, she gasped, “What are you doing?! Let me go! Don’t you want me to help or-”

A blast of green light hit the ground where Lena had previously been standing, and Blot flexed his gauntlet as thorny tendrils and leaves burned away.

“Wh-” Lena watched in confusion.

“Deadly nightshade. Dangerous to even a witch,” he growled at her. “You’re welcome.”   
  
Looking between the glowing glare of her captor, and the scorched patch of earth she’d almost stepped on, Lena scoffed, “A simple ‘watch your step’ would’ve worked too.”

The bordering fence encircling the old cemetery was tangled and knotted with thorned vines and brambles, and Lena glanced back to Blot. “Care to use your death-ray glove on this?”

“Or we just use the entrance.” He pointed to her left, where an open gate welcomed them onto the grounds.

“Huh.” The teen observed closely as they walked in. “For an old creepy cemetery out in the woods, there sure are a lotta flowers. Must get lots of visitors.”

“I put the flowers here,” Blot growled as he continued walking through the rows of graves.

“Huh? Why?”   


“Nobody else was, and I had enough in my garden. I figured it would be appreciated.”

Lena said nothing as she gazed on the lovely roses adorning most of the graves, then gave a knowing smile. “Looks like someone here isn’t a dastardly evildoer like he wants to be known as.”

“I never said that I was anything like that,” he glowered. “I just think- I  _ know _ ...magic is dangerous. And it has no place in the world.”

“And you’re having me use magic for this.”

“It’s my only option, and if it weren’t, I never would have chosen it.”

There was a long silence before Blot spat and snarled, “Now what do you do next?”

Lena looked at the trinkets Blot had collected from his cabin, and then at the ground. “Well, I have to draw a circle in the ground, say an incantation...y’know, the basics.”

“Disgusting.”

“I know you are, but what am I,” she scoffed back, then looked around the cemetery, seeing a few graves decorated with personal belongings of the deceased. “I think I may wanna practice this one though.”

“Do what you must. Witch.”   
  
Lena made her way through the various gravestones, trying to decide on one for her practice spell. She glanced at each of the different names, finding something off about each one. Some were too old, too young, died in a way that could potentially make their reanimated corpse unpleasant to look at or caused her to have some other hangup. After a while, she could feel Blot’s stare burning into her shoulder.   
  
“What’s taking you so long?”  
  
“Look, it’s not exactly easy to find out which dead person I wanna bring back to life.”

“Pick one, and get on with it.”   
  
“Fine, fine,” Lena grumbled under her breath, finally and a little impulsively settling for the gravestone she currently leaned against. Gently plucking a framed photograph of a man in a uniform from the stone, she walked just a few feet away and drew a circle with her shoe, placing the photograph in the middle.   


Grabbing the book from Blot, she flipped through, finding the proper spell and after a moment of silence, began to read, raising her hand towards the photograph.

_ “With heart of glass, and tear of grief _

_ We call you back to bring relief” _

At first, nothing happened, but Lena flexed her fingers, closed her eyes and repeated the chant. Again. And again. Before Blot could approach her with threat of danger if he lost his patience, the circle finally glowed brightly, and the photograph raised in the air, sparks flying from it.

“It’s working!” Lena grinned, stepping back in anticipation as the photograph burst into a shower of stars, and the ground glowed.

“Where is he? Shouldn’t he be standing here already?” Blot frowned, stepping closer to the grave and freezing in place as a decaying hand shot up from the ground.

“Um...maybe that’s just a graveyard security feature?” Lena asked hopefully to Blot, who backed away from the rising corpse, aghast.

“What have you done?” he hissed at her, nearly apoplectic.

“I did what the spell book said! I didn’t-”    
  
Lena’s explanation was cut off with a terrified yelp as a pair of blood red glowing eyes stared her down, and the zombified corpse of a long dead man began to approach her, growling and groaning unintelligibly.

“Woah! Hey! Back off!” she shouted at the zombie, hurling handfuls of magic at it.    
  
The panic in her gut grew as it continued advancing on her, its footsteps getting quicker as it regained its sense of physical movement. Lena took that as a signal to run, but upon spinning around to flee, her foot caught, twisting her ankle and sending her falling to the ground. Trying to get herself up in time, she scrambled as she saw the zombie approaching her, mouth agape listlessly and moans getting louder and louder.

Before she could yell for anyone, or anything to help, the zombie was suddenly body slammed by the much taller and broader-bodied Phantom Blot, who gave an enraged growl deep from his throat. Lena didn’t even have enough time to admire how amazing it was to see a zombie’s head fall off its body and go flying into the graveyard because Blot suddenly had her by the shirt, off her feet and locked in a gaze that was absolutely terrifying.

“WHAT. WAS. THAT?!”

Lena scrambled to get free. “I don’t know! I did the spell like it said!”

“Obviously you didn’t!” Blot growled, eyes glinted with rage. “Try it again!”

“Did you not see that?” Lena took a step back, defensive.   
  
“Of course I did; I’m not blind! You clearly misunderstood the directions. Now try again!”

The sorceress sighed, coming to terms with something she was worried Blot never would himself. “Look, I don’t think this is gonna work.”

Blot looked almost offended at the notion. “No, you’re just not doing it right. Surely this is a matter of being young and inexperienced.”   
  
“Even if it is, I’m not gonna do that again,” Lena retorted, looking to what remained of the last corpse she reanimated. “This isn’t the kind of spell I should be playing with.”

“Playing with!? This is a serious matter! My family is-”

“Gone!” Lena shot back. The cloaked man’s grip loosened at her words, and she fell, instantly brushing off her knees and standing back up to face him. “I’m sorry, but they’re gone, and no amount of magic is ever going to fix that.”

Blot was taken aback for a moment but then shook his head. “You’re wrong.”   
  
“I’m not!” She frantically motioned to the mess on the ground. “Do you want your family to come back like  _ that _ !?”   
  
Lena could tell Blot was about to speak, but he stopped himself, eyes narrowing slightly as if he was thinking. “I...of course not, but I-” He stood there for a moment, expression blank and hard to read.    
  
Then, he lowered his head, glancing away from Lena. “Fine. Go.” He began to walk away from Lena. “You are clearly no use to me.”   
  
The sorceress watched as Blot’s form became smaller in the distance, almost out of sight until she watched him stop and take a seat on a rock. She breathed in relief, ready to run as far away from him as she could. Then, she looked back and realized how small he appeared despite their past interactions where he’d been anything but. For a moment, it was easier to sympathize with him. She wondered where she’d be if Magica had succeeded in taking those she now considered family away, and her heart lurched.   
  
Lena heaved a sigh, taking her first step toward the brooding man. Maybe she couldn’t bring his family back, but she had to do something.

When he hadn’t immediately turned and screamed at her to go away as she stood maybe no more than two feet away from him, she spoke up. “So...what was your family like?”

“I told you to leave.”

“Don’t feel like it, and the last bus doesn't come for another hour.” She thumbed to the flickering light of an empty bus stop on the other side of the cemetery fence.

There was a long silence sans the crickets in the far-off grass before Blot finally spoke up, a voice strangely calmer than Lena had ever heard from him.

“My husband was a very smart man. He helped our village develop a steam-powered generator engine to provide warmth to homes. I helped him weld it together…”

Lena noticed Blot’s thumb running across the ring in his hand. “I made a set of rings for the both of us...normally, we couldn’t get married back in the day but our village was different.”

“Did you have any kids?” Lena dared to ask, remembering the one requested spell.

There was an even longer pause. He turned over the faded ragdoll in his hand a few times.

“We had a daughter. She was only five, and she still somehow knew the scientific names of at least twenty different flowers. I have no idea how she did...she was a smart child.”

“Reminds me of Vi,” Lena spoke up, finding something comforting in the dynamic of knowing Blot’s little girl had two dads.

Blot didn’t even bother asking who that was, instead looking at the old diary in his lap. “My sister didn’t live in the village, but she came to stay with us after-” He paused to snarl on the cursed name, “Magica began ruling over our village. We figured if we remained peaceful and obedient, she would spare us, and maybe reward us for our hard work. It was night and day work. My husband and I hardly had time to watch our child, so my sister came to look after her.”

“Did...any of them make it out?” Lena swallowed, stomach knotting as she sensed that she already knew the answer.

Blot’s fist curled into his cloak, clenching it furiously. “Almost. I had no time to save my sister or my husband, but I had fled carrying our child.” Lena could almost hear the mirthless, pained chuckle in Blot’s throat. “But the witch couldn’t let too many people be spared, or she might not be feared enough. So she sent stray curses after those who fled, and before I knew anything, my daughter had been struck.”

Blot’s eyes glowed furiously at the grass in front of him like headlights approaching a deer. “Do you know what it’s like to watch and feel your child die in your arms? The curse afflicted me from holding her, and now I have to live with that for an eternity of damnation.”

Lena was nearly speechless. “That’s...really awful. I’m so sorry.”

Blot failed to answer for several seconds. Then, he cursed. “The worst part of it is I had no time to bury them. My village was in ruins, and my daughter’s corpse was cursed so horrifically, it burned me to even try touching her.” He stared at his hands. “I don’t even remember what my husband or sister sounded like. It’s been years since I’ve even seen pictures of them.”

“You don’t have any?”

Blot shook his head once, then said nothing more, continuing to stare ahead blankly, eyes clouded with grief.

Taking the silence as a sign that the cursed thief wanted her to leave already, Lena began to take a step back. But something about seeing the dreaded Phantom Blot hunched over in anguish and grief wasn’t sitting well with her. The guy was a dangerous threat to her own existence, but she wasn’t going to feel right about this after knowing that underneath it all, he was just a person. A grieving person. A grieving husband. A grieving father. And that grief had corrupted a genuinely good man.

Daring to step forward closer, Lena chose her words carefully.

“I can’t bring your family back.”

“Then why are you still here?”

Blot only then noticed the duckling offering her hand to him.

“But there is something I  _ can _ do.”   
  
He turned around. “What?”   
  
Lena stepped in front of Blot, extending her hand to the taller man. He flinched.

“What are you attempting? A handshake? That’s not going to help.”

“Just take it.”

Reluctant, Blot reached out his hand until it was fastened into Lena’s. Then, their intertwined palms began to glow a gentle blue. She could tell that Blot wanted to shrink back, but he braced himself, clearly wanting to stick out whatever was coming to him. After a few seconds, Lena let go of his hand and motioned for him to look at it. In his palm was a small blue orb of light.   
  
The magic thief recoiled. “What did you do to me!?”

“Look in it!” Lena urged, causing him to avert his stare.    
  
The ball of light then burst into a life sized projection of figures Lena had never seen before, and she held her breath as she saw the masked thief’s eyes go wide.

“That’s…” He spoke quietly, voice trailing away without another noise.

A fox and a panther, hand in hand at an altar, stared at each other lovingly and kissed before the projection then shifted into showing them dancing happily together in a waltz to unheard music.

Before Lena could ask which of the two was the Phantom-to-be, the projection changed completely, showing the two lovers happily watching over a small panther cub as she crafted together handmade flower crowns. Even with them being shoddily made, they were accepted with nothing less than absolute adoration and love. And even with the lack of sound these memories made, Lena could  _ swear _ she heard a child laughing, very far away.

When the projection shifted, once more, another panther had joined in on the memory, showing the family in an old kitchen, happily cooking and sharing a meal together. The child sat in one of her fathers’ laps, eagerly accepting bites from a playfully offered spoon. 

In one final memory, Lena felt her heart tug somewhere when she saw the panther, Blot, cradling his child as she slept, holding her tight in a vow to protect her from whatever the world had in store. 

A vow that hadn’t been fulfilled.

At last, when the memory faded, Lena awkwardly rubbed her fingers together, not quite sure what to say. Blot had yet to move, or even blink.

“I know it’s not the same. But I thought it might have helped for you to see them again...even if they’re not here.”

A strange, choked noise came from the masked individual.

“Uh…”    
  
Lena was prepared to take a quick step back, but before she could, Blot ground the heel of his hand against one of his eyes. After giving a wet sniffle, pinched the corner of the hood to gently slide it off. The panther’s facial features were scarred, discolored from magic, but she could recognize him from the memories.

“I never expected anything beyond failure,” the Phantom Blot admitted forlornly, the weak smile on his face disfigured at one end, but it didn’t hide the genuine gratitude from it. “For this much...I do appreciate it. But...why?”

“Well,” Lena shifted her weight from foot to foot, “I wasn’t going to let you sit here all miserable. I wanted to at least try to make you feel better.”

The panther stared at his hands, brow furrowed in conflict. “I still think magic is dangerous.”

“And there it is. Great.” Lena crossed her arms, only dropping the attitude when the Phantom Blot stood up, returning his mask over his head.

“But I’ll allow you the chance to prove me wrong.” He stared at her with his stern glare, still as sharp as before but with less malice in times past. Before Lena could even respond, he turned on his heel and walked toward the gate of the cemetery.

Then he stopped.

“And for your own reference, that bus stop is out of service. You’ll need to find some other way home.”  
  
Lena smirked. “Lucky I’ve got magic for that, huh?”    
  
Her smirk changed to a genuine smile as the Phantom Blot gave no answer and disappeared into the night.


End file.
